


Phobos

by blue_bees



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, the illuminae files
Genre: Everyone is Dead, Gen, Infection, Madness, Poetry, This is the most depressing thing I've ever written, Virus, everyone dies horribly, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_bees/pseuds/blue_bees
Summary: A disease of madness finds the Enterprise and the battle is over before it even begins.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired heavily by The Illuminae Files_01.

The Phobos disease

is quick

and deadly.

 

Not in the way that a phaser bolt is deadly though;

nor a dagger,

but in the way of a poison which lurks under your skin

and in your breath

until you are seeing things that aren’t there

twists you

until you are already doomed.

 

An airborne disease, it spreads quickly

though they do not realize until it is too late.

  


Pavel

Chekov

is one of the first to go.

He turns in his seat and immediately goes for the eyes.

He does not miss.

He is still screaming when he and the injured Lieutenant Leslie are dragged from the bridge.

Stop looking at me, he says.

They can’t help but stare.

He can feel their eyes on him, true,

but it is the bridge crew that will feel his eyes, wide and staring,

for a good long time to come.

 

Hikaru

Sulu

can feel it coming.

Regardless, it seems like a relief when it finally arrives.

He is no longer afraid, he finds.

Perhaps a quality lauded in helmsmen.

Perhaps a quality less desirable in swordsmen.

Lacking other ways to fill his time he finds the parts of himself he no longer needs

and decides to cut them away

before somebody stops him.

That’s all right;

there’s nobody willing or able to stop him now.

 

Nyota

Uhura

has learned a new language.

It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard;

she wants books of it, volumes, poetry and song.

A terrible shame that she’s the only one who can understand it.

She wanders the blood-splashed halls and sings like an angel

oblivious to all.

It is a while before she identifies the source of this new language.

Of course!

Coordinates through song!

She punches the numbers, decoded from the melody, into the transporter

and materializes in the bright blackness of space.

The last thing she feels before losing consciousness

is the saliva on her tongue bubbling into the vacuum.

 

Leonard

McCoy

is just trying to cure them.

This is what he tells Chekov, in a calm and measured voice,

as Chekov screams and tears at his restraints.

The only problem is that he’s not sure which compound or chemical will work.

Really, it is becoming so difficult to tell them apart,

and so

he tries them all.

When the last of the unfortunates to have been brought to sickbay stops screaming

when their heart stops its frenetic, caged pulse

he is relieved.

At least they are no longer sick, right?

He has done well.

With no more warm bodies left to test on

he turns the hypospray on himself.

It is not until six or seven chemicals circle poisonously in his bloodstream

that the weak infrastructure of his heart

fails.

 

Montgomery

Scott

has finally solved the equation for transwarp beaming.

The only problem is, there is nobody left to tell.

Still, he has a beautiful blank wall just waiting to be written on

and when one has no ink

blood will do.

But wrists can only give so much,

and as the last of his lifeblood runs cold to the floor

Montgomery Scott is crying.

Because, he knows, there will be nobody to care for the engines when he is gone;

and the equation sketched in smudged red above him

is not quite complete.

 

First

Officer

Spock

is entirely lucid.

He can feel the corruption of some process inside his head

the same thing that turned what little rationality the humans had into dust.

So much more merciful for him to end them before they end each other or themselves;

he knows how to make it painless.

They do not.

He walks the halls methodically, finding those who need his help

helping them

in the only way he knows how at this point.

He suspects that he is no longer functioning correctly

but cannot imagine how.

His logic seems sound.

Nevertheless, he resolves that when he is done the last life he takes will be his own;

better to be liberated

than to live in doubt and fear.

  


James

Kirk

is the last to go.

He sits on the bridge, alone but not alone,

listening to fists pound on the lift door

like drums or thunder or something more pleasant and less awful to behold.

He considers turning off the oxygen, a quieter end,

but James Tiberius Kirk never thought he’d go out quietly.

Besides,

if left alone one may stumble upon the emptiness of his ship

(as they stumbled upon the empty hulk of the first one)

and relive the horrors

they had escaped.

And so he primes the self-destruct

(the only thing on the ship still rational, the computer, thank god,)

and waits as the countdown rises above the pounding on the door.

Three

two

one.

  
(.)


End file.
